


sink down to  me

by tamaslin



Series: x'jutah tia. [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Original Character - Freeform, Patch 5.0: Shadowbringers Spoilers, minor ones but just in case, yes this is just an oc drabble yes i am putting it into the world anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:54:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27093133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamaslin/pseuds/tamaslin
Summary: after the moment at mt. gulg, x'jutah tia remembers home.
Series: x'jutah tia. [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1977460
Kudos: 3





	sink down to  me

**Author's Note:**

> what i like to imagine my WoL went thought in between the innocence trial and going to the tempest with the rest of the scions. it would not leave my head until i wrote it and now that's everyone else's problem. if u actually read this thank u i love you

On the hard days, Jutah dreams about salt.

Limsa Lominsa is a city on the edge of the world. That's what he believed when he was younger. Looking out to the ships disappearing beneath the horizon the way he would hide from monsters under his blankets. The moment you couldn't see the world, you were invisible. He would picture that the ships just needed to make it to the horizon to be safe from the monsters. When they dipped over the edge of the world and into whatever lay beyond, they would be safe.

When he faced Leviathan, he wondered how far the world really went. How long the monsters stretched ahead as he white-knuckled his axe and stared a god in its scaled, screaming face. He looked around and saw only the ocean. Her violent song crashing against the sides of a ship not meant to last. Fear thick in his throat, every breath salted by the air he was desperate to keep in his lungs. Jutah looked beyond god to the edge and prayed for a blanket. When he stepped forward and cleaved Leviathan in two, he wondered who the monster on the waves really was.

And they cheered him on. Every battle won, every primal and conqueror brought low by his hand.

He lays in bed now, lost on a different star on a bright night, and he no longer believes that blankets protect him from monsters. But he still pulls his up over his head because darkness is better than the alternative. The Light. Violent light and even when he closes his eyes he can still see it burned orange onto the backs of his eyelids. 

‘ _ You’ll have to head down soon _ ,’ someone had said. Who said it? Who tried to pull him from his comfort? 

It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t. Guilt lives in the center of his chest. The monster in the ocean that he will never be able to slip away from because it knows the smell of salt on his skin. Fear and sweat and sea water. He may as well drown in it all sure as the sky will drown in Light. Again. Because of him.

Jutah curls into himself. Pain is flint against stone. It sparks against his bones and his next breath is shuddering. Fingers curl until once more he can see the promise of bone beneath skin pulled tight. Have his knuckles always been so scarred? He doesn’t remember. When he blinks he sees lightning across his skin.

‘ _ You’ll be a monster soon too _ .’ 

“No.” The whimper is pitiful in the silence of his room. It’s the only thing he can think to say. “No, no, no.”

‘ _ You’ll rip all your friends apart. _ ’

It doesn’t matter how hard he squeezes his eyes shut. He sees the lightning over the ocean. He sees monsters and gods and his own hard-knuckled hands pulling them apart. When will he stop being able to tell the difference between friend and foe? Has it already happened? 

His tail curls. Ears flatten to his skull and he forces the next inhale to be slower. His lungs lance through with pain. Exhale. His throat is on fire.

“They need me.” X’Jutah Tia has never been a good liar.

“I need them.” 

That’s the truth that’s pulled him across oceans before. Each breath is sharp and white. The Light within him pulses and threatens and there are no monsters that will be stopped by a blanket or the edge of the world. But his hands are already scarred.

‘ _ When you’re ready to die with dignity, come find me at the bottom of the ocean _ .’ 

Going to the end of the world is easy enough. He thinks about Limsa and the sea and all the years he spent kissing the shore goodbye. Kissing his mothers on their cheeks and promising to return as soon as the sea would let him. And he would turn to the horizon and inhale deep and taste the salt on his tongue the moment the day broke the waves. That’s where he holds himself now. In the moment before leaving. It makes the pain go away inch by inch until his body isn’t Light anymore. It’s shaking. It’s his and he isn’t ready to die.

Slowly his body uncurls. The blanket lowers and the room around him comes into focus again. The oil lamp burning low and the shuttered balcony. It isn’t a home but the thought of leaving aches worse than the pain. 

Because he’s going to be alone.

Outside there are his friends. On the ship there was his crew. Somewhere at home his mothers are waiting for the son that might never come back. Legs swing over the edge of the bed and the cold floor sinks reality into his bones.

He’s going to be alone.

There are monsters in the ocean. That thought echoes as he fastens his armor. Watches the dim light curve the blade of his axe. There are more horrors than he can think to count but that fear is distant now because he knows the worst one waits at the very bottom. And he’s going to face him alone. He should be scared. Instead his pain sparks against his ribs and the fire that comes is a fury he keeps close to his stomach. He is gentle until the world calls for him to be violent. He can hear it now. Distant as the waves, he can hear the voices of everyone he’s met and they want him to save the world. Even if he disappears beneath the waves and never comes home. 

‘ _ You’re too good, _ ’ his mama said once as she brushed the hair from his eyes, ‘ _ this world is never good to good men _ .’

‘ _ It doesn’t matter to him _ ,’ his other mother replied, not looking up from her work, ‘ _ that’s why he’s a good man _ .’

Jutah picks up his axe. Hand settles against the door, warm wood beneath his palm and if he closes his eyes he can imagine it’s the door leading home. That he’ll open it to laughter and cooking and beneath it all, salt.

When it closes behind him, his room is dark and empty. And in the distance, the sound of waves.


End file.
